AMERICAN  BAPTIST  FOREIGN  MISSION  SOCIETY 
Ford  Building,  Boston,  Mass. 


WOMAN’S  AMERICAN  BAPTIST  FOREIGN  MISSION  SOCIETY 
Ford  Building,  Boston,  Mass.  450  E.  30th  St.,  Chicago,  Ill. 


STORY  LESSONS  FOR  INTERMEDIATES 


These  story  lessons  are  for  the  Intermediate  and 
even  the  Junior  grade  in  our  Sunday  Schools.  Since 
the  time  allowed  for  the  lesson  each  Sunday  is  so 
brief,  only  five  minutes,  we  suggest  that  the  teacher 
simply  read  the  story  for  the  day  and  ask  the  ques¬ 
tions.  It  is  better,  of  course,  to  tell  the  story  with  an¬ 
imation.  Reference  should  be  made  to  the  pictures. 
It  is  hoped  that  the  children  will  be  interested  enough 
to  buy  the  booklet  in  some  cases  and  so  become  bet¬ 
ter  acquainted  with  the  stories  at  home,  or  they 
might  make  an  attractive  Easter  gift.  They  may  be 
obtained  at  either  of  our  Foreign  Mission  headquar¬ 
ters,  at  ten  cents  a  copy,  sixty  cents  per  dozen. 

We  hope  that  impressions  may  be  made  on  the 
children  during  this  foreign  mission  period  of  our 
Baptist  churches,  and  that  they  may  learn  to  pray 
for  Congo  children.  The  large  colored  charts  issued 
by  the  societies  are  most  interesting  and  should  be 
displayed  in  the  class  room  if  possible.  A  set  is  given 
free  to  each  Sunday  School  and  additional  sets  may 
be  provided  at  twenty  cents  for  three  charts  in  a  set, 
post  paid.  The  offerings  are  for  the  Missionary 
JV  ork  in  Congo  Land.  Treasurers:  Ernest  S.  Butler 
and  Alice  E.  Stedman,  Ford  Building,  Boston,  Mass. 


LESSON  I. 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  MISSIONARY. 

NCE  upon  a  time  not  so  very  long  ago  there  was  a  little 
girl  six  or  seven  years  old  who  went  to  Sunday  .School  a 
whole  year  without  missing  a  Sunday  and  the  superin¬ 
tendent  gave  her  a  little  red  book  as  a  reward  for  perfect 
attendance.  It  was  the  story  of  Mabita,  a  little  African 
girl  of  about  her  own  age,  who  lived  in  a  little  brown  village  under 
some  palm  trees  in  central  Africa.  One  dark  night,  when  all  the 
family  were  asleep,  slave  raiders  surrounded  the  village  and  caught 
nearly  all  the  people  and  tied  them  together  in  a  long  line  and 
drove  them  off  many  days’  march  to  the  coast  where  they  could 
sell  them.  They  were  hungry  and  thirsty,  footsore  and  afraid, 
all  the  long  way  to  the  sea.  Mabita’s  mother  and  baby  brother  were 
left  by  the  path  to  die  when  they  became  too  weak  to  walk  farther. 
Mabita  was  driven  on  to  the  coast. 

The  little  American  girl  felt  very  sorry  for  Mabita  and  asked 
her  aunt,  who  was  reading  the  story  to  her,  why  she  didn’t  tell 
Jesus.  He  could  help  her.  Her  aunt  replied,  “Mabita  doesn't 
know  Jesus.  In  all  her  country  they  have  never  heard  of  Jesus." 
It  was  the  first  time  little  Catharine  realized  that  there  were  other 
children  who  didn’t  know  her  Jesus.  Why,  she  had  always  told 
Him  everything,  all  her  childish  joys  and  sorrows  ever  since  she 
could  remember.  Not  to  know  Jesus  really  -would  be  too  bad.  So 
she  took  her  doll  and  her  little  blue  rocking  chair  over  by  the 
window  and  rocked  and  thought  and  rocked  and  talked  it  all  out. 
Then  she  told  the  doll  that  just  as  soon  as  she  was  big  enough  she 
was  going  over  there  and  tell  Mabita  all  about  Jesus. 

But  she  was  only  a  little  girl  and  soon  forgot  all  about  Mabita 
and  her  troubles.  What  with  school  and  work  and  play,  there  were 
so  many  other  things  to  think  about.  There  were  so  many  other 
things  to  do  wdien  one  grew  up.  When  she  really  had  grown  up 
she  thought  she  would  like  to  be  a  school  teacher.  Then  one  night 
she  went  with  a  friend  to  a  missionary  meeting  and  coming  home 
the  friend  said,  “Why  don’t  you  go  and  tell  those  heathen  people 
about  Jesus?”  and  she  kept  asking  herself,  “Why  don’t  I?  Why 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


5 


don’t  I  ?”  until  she  made  up  her  mind  that  she  would.  Then  she 
went  to  a  medical  school  and  learned  to  be  a  doctor  because  the 
people  who  don’t  know  Jesus  don’t  have  hospitals  and  doctors  of 
their  own.  They  don’t  know  how  to  take  care  of  sick  people. 

Finally  one  June  day  this  American  doctor  sailed  away  from 
New  York  in  a  beautiful  ship  across  the  ocean  and  on  down  the 
west  coast  of  Africa.  Five  whole  weeks  at  sea !  She  watched  the 
whales  spout  and  schools  of  porpoises  play.  One  morning  some 
flying  fish  fell  at  her  feet  on  the  deck  and  the  captain  ordered 
them  fried  for  her  breakfast.  Another  morning  she  crossed  the 
equator  and  that  night  saw  the  beautiful  southern  cross  shining 
up  in  the  sky.  Soon  the  blue  waters  of  the  ocean  began  to  look 
brown  and  the  captain  said  that  the  great  flood  of  water  pouring 
out  of  the  Congo  river  made  it  brown,  and  she  knew  that  after 
many  years  she  was  nearing  Mabita’s  land. 

After  a  few  hours  the  steamer  poked  her  nose  into  the  Congo 
river  and  stopped  at  a  little  town  called  Banana,  I  suppose  be¬ 
cause  there  are  so  many  cocoanut  palms  there.  Almost  before  the 
anchor  was  down  dozens  of  canoes  full  of  black  men  yelling  and 
shouting  in  a  language  you  couldn’t  understand  surrounded  the 
steamer.  They  had  parrots  green  and  parrots  gray,  baby  monkeys 
and  a  big  baboon,  baskets,  carved  gourds,  cocoanuts,  pineapples 
and  fish  for  sale.  In  two  of  the  canoes  were  a  lot  of  small  boys 
who  dived  for  coins  which  the  passengers  on  the  upper  deck 
threw  into  the  river  just  to  see  the  little  black  rascals  dive  and 
bring  them  up  in  their  mouths.  And  I  say  but  they  could  dive 
and  stay  under  the  longest  time !  You  couldn’t  fool  them.  They 
wouldn’t  dive  for  anything  but  money. 

Soon  the  whistle  blew,  the  anchor  was  hauled  up,  the  pilot  rang 
up  the  engine  room  and  the  big  boat  began  to  crawl  up  stream 
between  sandbanks.  She  called  for  a  day  or  two  at  Boma,  the 
capital  of  Belgian  Congo,  then  went ’on  up  to  Matadi  about  a 
hundred  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  river.  Matadi  are  stones  in 
the  Kikongo  language  and  Matadi  is  a  stony  hill  town  sprawling 
there  in  the  hot  sun  on  the  river  bank.  It  was  so  hot  that  the 
American  girl  had  to  wear  a  broad,  thick,  pith  hat  to  keep  from 
having  a  sun  fever.  Above  Matadi  the  river  is  full  of  cataracts 
and  rapids  so  the  rest  of  the  way  she  had  to  walk  or  ride  in  a 


WHERE  TEMBO  WENT  TO  SCHOOL 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


/ 


hammock  carried  on  the  heads  of  two  natives  along  the  old  cara¬ 
van  road  the  raiders  had  gone  with  Mabita. 

Now  the  caravan  road  isn't  a  road  at  all.  It’s  just  a  narrow 
trail  over  the  hills,  coarse  grass  growing  on  either  side  two  or 
three  times  as  tall  as  you  are.  This  grass  is  full  of  buffalo  and 
elephants  and  leopards  and  antelope  and  other  wild  animals. 
You  need  a  man  with  a  gun  along.  Beside  the  doctor’s  hammock- 
carriers  there  was  a  man  for  the  “chop  box,”  another  for  a  canvas 
bed  and  bedding,  one  with  a  bath  of  dishes  and  cooking  utensils 
and  others  with  trunks  and  boxes  on  their  heads,  all  going  in  In¬ 
dian  file,  walking  and  talking  the  queerest  of  lingoes  all  day  long. 
At  night  they  camped  in  little  grass  towns  by  the  way  until  at 
last  they  reached  the  mission  station  at  Banza  Manteke. 

LESSON  II. 

MAKING  NEW  FRIENDS. 

HE  morning  after  her  arrival  at  the  mission  station  the 
American  girl  awoke  early  and  thought  how  nice  it  was 
to  sleep  once  more  in  a  comfortable  bed  after  all  her 
weeks  of  travel  from  New  York  to  Congo  land.  She 
remembered  that  it  was  last  night  back  in  California 
where  her  family  were  probably  just  going  to  bed.  Three  weeks 
seemed  such  a  long  time  to  wait  for  the  first  letters  from  home. 
She  would  have  to  wait  three  months  for  answers  to  those  she 
sent  home.  Then  she  wondered  if  she  would  ever  feel  at  home 
in  this  strange .  new  land.  Wondered  if  she  could  ever  care 
enough  for  these  black  folk  to  live  always  among  them  and  heal 
their  sicknesses  and  teach  them  of  Jesus.  Wondered  if  they  would 
like  her.  Wondered  if—,  wondered  more  ifs  “than  you  could 
shake  a  stick  at.” 

At  a  timid  little  knock  on  her  door  she  thought  hard  for  a  min¬ 
ute  and  then  said  “kota”  and  in  walked  a  little  maid  of  about  ten 
carrying  a  tea  tray  on  her  head.  “Kiambote,  mama  dokuta. 
Tomene  sikama?”  (Good  morning,  mama  doctor.  Have  you 
awakened  well?),  she  said  in  a  soft  little  voice.  “Inga  ntondele, 


8 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


Tembo”  (Yes,  thank  you,  Tembo)  replied  the  doctor.  While  her 
new  mistress  drank  the  tea  Tembo  stood  with  downcast  eyes 
awaiting  orders.  The  doctor  had  used  up  about  all  the  Kikongo 
she  knew  and  Tembo  knew  no  English  but  she  managed  by  signs 
to  show  the  little  maid  about  the  bedroom  work.  For  a  good 
many  days  they  had  to  depend  mostly  on  the  sign  language.  The 
doctor  would  point  to  things  and  say  “inld”  and  Tembo  would  tell 
her  the  names  in  Kikongo.  Sometimes  she  got  the  new  names  so 
badly  mixed  that  poor  little  Tembo  had  a  hard  time  making  out 
what  she  meant.  Ngila,  the  medicine  house  boy,  was  her  teacher 
for  two  or  three  hours  every  day  and  all  the  children  helped  her 
until  after  a  while  she  learned  to  talk  in  their  language,  which  of 
course  pleased  them  very  much. 

Crowds  of  sick  people  came  to  the  medicine  house  every  day 
and  the  little  tin  hospital  was  full  of  sick  folk  and  the  children’s 
school  and  the  woman’s  school  were  all  calling  to  her  to  come  and 
help  so  that  she  really  didn’t  find  time  to  be  homesick  except  when 
she  had  a  headache  or  fever  or  something  like  that.  Soon  she 
found  that  she  liked  the  people  and  they  liked  her  and  it  began  to 
seem  like  home. 

Tembo  was  a  little  dear.  She  kept  the  bedroom  spick  and  span, 
ran  errands,  went  to  school  of  course,  and  simply  adored  her  new 
mistress.  She  was  an  orphan  child  whom  the  missionaries  had 
found  when  she  was  a  baby,  half  starved  and  neglected,  her  little 
body  all  covered  with  sores.  Nobody  would  claim  or  care  for 
her  so  the  missionaries  took  her  to  the  station  and  cared  for  her 
and  now  she  was  well  and  strong  and  happy  as  the  day  was  long. 
She  could  read  and  write  and  sew  her  own  dresses.  She  lived 
with  Mbanda  and  Nlemvo  and  Sita,  three  other  orphan  girls  in  a 
cute  little  house  close  beside  the  doctor’s  big  one.  The  girls 
cooked  their  own  food,  kept  the  little  house  clean  and  had  a 
peanut  garden  down  in  the  valley.  They  all  worked  two  or  three 
hours  a  day  in  the  white  people’s  houses  beside  going  to  school. 

One  morning  about  a  year  after  Tembo  became  the  doctor’s 
girl  she  came  flying  into  the  house  crying,  “They’ve  come. 
They’ve  come.  Don’t  let  them  take  me  away.  I  won’t  live  with 
him.  I  won’t.  I  won’t.  I  won’t.  I’ll  run  away.  Let  me  die 
first !” 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


9 


It  seemed  now  that  Tembo  was  well  and  strong  and  able  to 
work  that  an  uncle  bad  turned  up  and  claimed  the  child.  He 
had  agreed  to  give  her  in  payment  for  a  debt  to  an  old  man 
across  the  river  who  wanted  a  little  girl  wife,  and  had  come  to 
take  her  to  her  husband’s  town  where  she  would  learn  to  work 
and  cook  his  food  according  to  the  customs  of  his  people.  The 
old  man  wanted  to  see  the  girl  before  the  bargain  was  closed  and 
so  had  come  with  the  uncle  and  some  other  men  to  see  whether 
she  was  worth  the  price. 

After  the  missionaries  had  heard  the  uncle’s  claims  they  said, 
“But  who  will  pay  your  debt  to  us  who  have  given  medicine  and 
clothes  and  food  to  the  child  all  these  years  when  you  had  no  use 
for  her — when  you  drove  her  out  to  die?  The  girl  must  stay 
with  us  two,  three  more  years.  She  is  far  too  young  to  go  to 
her  husband’s  house  now.”  At  this  the  uncle  grew  very  angry 
and  said  that  the  girl  was  his.  He  had  never  given  the  mission¬ 
aries  permission  to  take  her  from  the  town.  He  would  take  her 
by  force  and  do  with  her  as  he  liked.  Who  made  the  missionary 
a  judge  in  his  affairs  ? 

The  missionary  replied  that  Nzambi  (God)  had  made  him  a 
friend  of  orphan  children  and  that  he  would  surely  protect  Tembo 
and  advised  him  “to  drink  water”  over  it  before  he  attempted  to 
take  the  child  by  force  or  even  to  come  by  night  and  steal  her 
away.  After  talking  for  two  or  three  hours  the  men  all  went  off 
very  angry  indeed,  threatening  to  bring  the  big  chief.  The  doctor 
told  Mbanda  and  Tembo  to  bring  their  blankets  and  mats  into  her 
house  and  sleep  there  every  night  where  nobody  could  surprise 
them. 

About  a  month  after  that  the  uncle  came  alone  one  day  and 
said  that  if  he  might  receive  two  francs  (40  cents)  each  month 
for  the  work  which  Tembo  did  she  might  stay  with  the  mission¬ 
aries  another  year  or  even  two  years.  With  the  money  he  would 
pay  the  debt.  As  this  seemed  the  best  way  out  of  the  trouble 
it  was  agreed  upon.  But  the  missionary  pointed  out  that  this 
would  never  pay  the  uncle’s  debt  to  the  mission;  that  Tembo  must 
be  free  to  marry  whomsoever  she  chose  when  she  was  old  enough 
to  marry.  A  new  law  had  come  into  the  land.  Girls  were  no 
longer  goods  to  be  exchanged  for  goats  and  pigs  or  debts.  There 


10 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


was  a  Belgian  judge  at  Matadi  who  would  tell  him  these  things 
if  he  did  not  believe  the  missionary. 

So  Tembo  went  back  to  the  girls’  house  to  sleep  and  soon  forgot 
her  fears  in  the  happy  station  life  where  she  grew  to  be  a  strong, 
fine  young  woman  and  a  true  Christian. 


LESSON  III. 

NSIMBA  GOES  TO  MARKET. 

SIMBA,  son  of  Manimba,  was  having  troubles  of  his 
own  with  a  scraggly,  bad  tempered  little  Billy  goat  which 
didn’t  like  being  dragged  two  or  three  days  to  market. 
Beside  the  goat  Nsimba  was  carrying  a  bag  of  zinsafu, 
a  kind  of  sour  plums,  which  he  had  gathered  from 
Tis  own  tree.  He  hoped  there  were  enough  to  buy  one  of  those 
magic  glasses  which  make  faces  at  you.  The  white  man  brings 
them. 

Just  ahead  of  Nsimba  walked  his  uncle  Nsakala  Nkanda,  driv¬ 
ing  two  hogs.  His  mother  followed  with  a  great  conical  basket 
on  her  back  supported  by  a  strap  across  her  forehead.  The  bas¬ 
ket  was  filled  with  kwanga  or  Congo  bread.  It’s  sour,  soggy 
stuff.  You  wouldn’t  like  it.  On  her  head  she  carried  a  basket 
of  tiny  red  peppers.  A  bright  eyed  baby  rode  astride  her  hip. 
They  were  all  going  to  the  big  market  where  every  two  weeks, 
which  in  Congo  land  is  every  eight  days  instead  of  every  fourteen, 
a  thousand  or  more  people  gather  to  exchange  gossip  and  goods. 

Long  before  the  market  came  into  view  they  could  hear  the 
loud  voices  of  those  who  had  arrived  ahead  of  them.  The  mar¬ 
ket  was  held  in  the  open  country  where  five  paths  met.  Nsimba 
and  his  uncle  went  over  where  they  were  selling  sheep  and  goats 
and  pigs.  Lesa  took  her  kzvanga  and  peppers  to  another  part 
where  there  were  all  kinds  of  food  spread  out  on  the  ground. 
They  couldn’t  really  sell  anything  until  the  chief  of  the  market 
beat  the  drum  when  the  sun  should  reach  the  middle.  But  they 
were  all  bargaining.  To  hear  them  shouting  at  one  another  you 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


11 


would  surely  think  that  they  were  quarreling.  Brass  rods  and 
beads  were  the  money  they  used.  When  the  signal  was  given 
they  sold  peanuts  for  baby  straps,  baskets  for  pots,  bananas  for 
grass  cloth,  chickens  for  beads  and  goats  and  pigs  and  powder 
for  brass  rods.  You  couldn’t  hear  yourself  think  for  the  noise 
they  made.  Under  a  big  tree  a  man  was  selling  drinks  of  palm 
wine,  a  little  gourd  full  for  a  rod. 

After  Billy  had  been  sold  for  three  pieces  of  red  and  yellow 
calico  which  a  white  trader  had  sent  to  the  market  and  the  zinsaju 
for  a  small  round  looking  glass,  Nsimba  had  nothing  to  do  but 
wander  about  and  see  what  was  going  on.  He  found  that  his 
mother  had  sold  her  kwanga  and  peppers  for  a  hoe  and  a  big, 
black  water  bottle  and  some  blue  beads  to  tie  about  the  baby’s 
waist.  She  was  talking  with  a  strange  woman  who  had  a  basket 
full  of  empty  bottles  on  her  head.  The  woman  told  her  that  she 
was  going  to  the  medicine  house  at  the  mission.  What !  Had 
Lesa  never  heard  of  the  white  woman  doctor?  Many,  many 
people  from  many  towns  go  to  her  every  day  with  their  sicknesses. 
“Listen,”  she  said.  “At  the  time  for  planting  peanuts  my  brother 
was  shot.  Shot  in  the  leg.  All  the  flesh  was  eaten.  The  bone 
was  in  many  pieces.  We  kept  him  many  days  in  the  town  but 
the  leg  would  not  heal.  The  Devil  was  in  him.  Then  one  day 
we  took  him  to  this  woman  doctor.  She  said  his  leg  must  be 
cut  off.  He  said  he  would  die  with  two  legs  and  not  with  one 
only.  So  the  white  woman  washed  the  leg  with  many  washings 
and  cut  it  with  many  cuttings  and  sewed  and  tied  it  with  many  ty- 
ings.  I  speak  truth.  I  saw  it  with  my  own  eyes.  Listen.  The  dry 
season  has  come.  The  peanuts  are  dug.  These  many  months 
my  brother  has  lain  in  the  house  for  sick  ones.  The  white  woman 
doctor  has  tended  his  leg  with  her  own  hands  and  now  he  walks. 
With  a  stick?  Yes  with  a  stick  but  on  his  two  legs.” 

Nsimba  left  them  talking  and  walked  over  to  where  a  group 
of  boys  were  throwing  pebbles  into  little  holes  bored  in  the 
ground.  They  were  playing  a  game  of  chance  and  soon  fell  to 
quarreling  and  then  to  fighting  over  it.  Nsimba  got  mixed  up  in 
the  scuffle  and  lost  his  precious  looking  glass.  Some  of  the 
men  scattered  the  boys  and  one  of  them  who  was  only  a  few  years 
older  than  Nsimba  told  him  he  had  seen  a  boy  steal  his  glass  and 


NSIMBA 


MARKET  DAY.  LESA,  NSIMBA’S  MOTHER 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


13 


had  taken  it  away  from  him.  As  he  returned  it  he  said,  “Take  it. 
It’s  yours.  The  people  of  God  don’t  steal.” 

“The  people  of  God?  What  are  people  of  God?”,  asked 
Nsimba. 

“Then  you  have  not  heard  the  good  news?”  replied  the  boy 
whose  name  was  Joani  Malembe. 

“What  good  news?” 

“The  good  news  which  the  white  people  bring  us  from  over  the 

„ ^ ^ 
sea. 

“We  of  chief  Vinganima’s  towns  have  nothing  to  do  with  white 
strangers.  Our  wise  men  tell  us  that  they  are  not  real  men  but 
spirits.  They  will  do  us  harm.  I  see  great  fear  in  my  heart  only 
to  hear  of  them.” 

“Truly  you  know  nothing  at  all,”  replied  Joani.  “You  live 
in  the  bush.  I  tell  you  the  truth.  White  people  are  real  people. 
The  white  people  of  God  come  to  bring  us  the  good  news  about 
God.  They  come  to  do  us  good  and  not  harm.  I  know'  for  I 
have  lived  with  them.  Listen.  When  I  was  your  height  my 
whole  body  was  covered  with  aching  sores.  Many  nights  I  slept 
not  for  pain.  A  carrier  going  to  Matadi  with  rubber  slept  in 
my  mother’s  town  where  I  lay.  He  told  me  there  was  healing  at 
the  medicine  house  of  the  white  woman  of  God.  All  night  I 
thought  about  it.  In  the  morning  I  asked  my  mother  for  food 
for  the  road.  I  told  her  not  where  I  was  going.  When  I  came 
to  the  medicine  house  and  saw  the  medicine  woman  white  in  face 
and  white  in  clothes,  I  was  afraid.  I  said  in  my  heart  she  will 
not  look  at  me.  She  will  drive  me  away  like  a  mangy  cur.  But 
when  she  saw  me  she  called  me  in  my  own  language  and  asked  my 
name  and  my  town  and  how  many  moons  I  had  been  covered 
with  sores.  Then  she  washed  and  dressed  them  with  her  own 
hands  and  gave  me  medicine  to  drink,  a  spoon  full  when  the  sun 
rises,  when  it  is  at  the  middle  and  at  sunset  and  sent  me  to  tell 
mother  that  I  must  come  and  live  at  the  house  for  the  sick  until 
my  body  was  well.” 

“It  sounds  very  like  a  story  of  healing  I  just  heard  a  stranger 
telling  to  my  mother.  I  said  she  lies.  It  is  mere  woman’s  talk 
and  walked  away.” 


“MEDICINE  HOUSE”  AND  LITTLE  TIN  HOSPITAL  AT  BANZA  MANTEKE 


THE  DOCTOR  CONDUCTING  A  MORNING  CLINIC 
From  “  Our  Work  on  the  Congo  ” 

Used  by  Permission  of  American  Baptist  Publication  Society 


iMJl 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


15 


“Listen  boy.  These  are  not  lies.  Truly  it  is  strange.  But 
it  is  their  way  of  showing  us  what  God  is  like.” 

Just  then  Lesa  called  to  Nsimba  that  they  were  starting  for 
home.  Joani  asked  if  he  might  not  visit  Nsimba’s  town  and  tell 
him  more  about  the  white  people  of  God. 

“No!  No!”  replied  the  little  fellow.  “It  is  forbidden.  Chief 
Vinganima  will  have  nothing  of  the  white  man’s  news.  If  he 
hears  that  I  have  been  listening  he  will  forbid  my  ever  coming 
to  this  market  again.  The  next  time  I  come  I  want  to  buy  a 
cap  like  yours.  Thank  you  for  giving  me  back  my  looking  glass.” 

LESSON  IV. 

CHIEF  VINGANIMA  GOES  HUNTING. 

T  was  early  evening  in  a  little  grass  thatched  bamboo 
town  overlooking  the  Congo  river  not  far  from  Yelela 
falls.  The  red  glare  of  a  huge  grass  fire  lighted  up 
dusky  little  groups  of  women  busy  getting  supper  around 
their  village  fires.  Earlier  in  the  afternoon  the  fire  had 
swept  up  over  the  other  side  of  the  hill  and  dozens  of  scared 
field  rats  scurrying  here  and  there  to  escape  the  heat  had  fallen 
an  easy  prey  to  a  crowd  of  small  boys  armed  with  sticks  and 
stones  and  bows  and  arrows  and  sling  shots.  Now,  hungry  and 
tired  but  happy  the  boys  were  boasting  excitedly  about  their 
catches  while  they  roasted  whole  rows  of  fragrant  juicy  rats 
on  spits  about  their  own  camp  fire  at  the  end  of  the  town. 

Suddenly  Wansadio,  the  swiftest  runner  of  the  tribe,  came 
tearing  up  the  path  crying,  “Engua  mono!  Nsamu  wambi.  Sami 
watobulua.  Wadiua  kuandi.  Mbungi  wandidi.  Engua  yeto.” 
(Woe  is  me.  Bad  news.  My  father  is  wounded.  He  is  eaten. 
The  Devil  ate  him.  Woe  unto  us.)  Old  chief  Vinganima  had 
wounded  a  buffalo  and  it  had  charged  and  bored  him  full  of 
holes,  five  great  wounds,  and  they  were  bringing  him  home  to  die, 
if  indeed  he  were  not  already  dead. 

The  charm  or  fetish  which  he  always  wore  when  he  went 
hunting  to  protect  him  from  such  dangers,  had  he  not  worn  it? 


16 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


Yes,  surely.  His  new  little  girl  wife  had  tied  it  about  his 
wrist  just  before  he  started.  One  of  the  older  wives  who  hated 
this  little  new  one  said  she  had  cast  an  evil  eye  over  the  fetish 
while  she  tied  it  and  fell  to  beating  the  terrified  child. 

Soon  they  came  carrying  poor  old  Vinganima  up  the  hill  on 
a  bamboo  stretcher  they  had  cut  in  the  swamp.  His  five  great 
wounds  they  had  packed  with  leaves  from  the  forest.  After 
putting  him  into  his  house  they  got  out  all  the  strong  family 
fetishes  and  old  Nsita  began  making  some  strong  new  medicine 
to  drive  away  the  evil  spirits  that  might  get  into  the  wounds  and 
eat  out  the  chief’s  life.  They  saw  that  all  the  big  carved  images 
which  guarded  the  entrances  to  the  town  were  on  duty  and  then 
sat  down  to  watch.  The  little  girl  wife  was  shaking  with  terror. 
If  the  chief  died  they  would  blame  her  and  she  might  have  to 
eat  poison. 

When  the  fever  began  and  the  old  man’s  mind  wandered  and 
he  said  strange  things  they  knew  that  in  spite  of  all  they  had 
done  the  spirits  were  eating  him  so  they  sent  for  an  nganga  or 
medicine  man  to  drive  them  out.  While  he  was  coming  they  cut 
and  bled  the  chief  to  let  the  Devil  out  but  he  wouldn’t  come  out. 
Finally  the  nganga  came  with  his  strong  medicine  for  smelling 
out  spirits.  He  looked  awful  and  everybody  was  terribly  afraid 
of  him  because  he  might  say  that  any  one  of  them  was  eating  the 
chief  and  then  they  would  have  to  eat  poison  to  prove  that  they 
were  not  guilty. 

The  nganga  told  them  that  someone  in  Ntoyo,  a  little  town  down 
in  the  valley  where  the  buffalo  feed,  was  eating  Chief  Vin- 
ganima’s  life.  The  men  must  make  a  raid  on  the  town  and 
bring  him  all  the  people.  Then  he  would  smell  out  which  one 
of  them  was  “ndoki”  or  the  witch  who  was  sucking  the  chief’s 
life  blood.  The  little  girl  wife  was  glad  it  wasn’t  she. 

While  they  were  all  excitedly  discussing  this  word  of  the 
nganga ,  little  Nsimba  who  was  standing  with  the  other  boys,  all 
eyes  and  ears,  sneaked  away  and  ran  as  fast  as  his  legs  could 
carry  him  along  the  dark  forest  path  to  his  uncle’s  town.  He 
was  terribly  afraid  because  the  forest  is  always  full  of  spirits  at 
night.  But  once  long  ago  he  had  gone  with  this  uncle  and  his 
mother  to  a  far  away  market  where  he  had  heard  strange  things 


17 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 

ft 

about  a  white  woman  nganga  who  did  wonderful  things  with 
knives  and  needles  and  thread  for  wounded  people.  Perhaps  she 
could  save  Chief  Vinganima.  His  uncle  and  some  other  men 
who  knew  about  the  woman  doctor  at  the  mission  thought  so  too. 
So  they  hurried  back  with  Nsimba  and  after  a  great  deal  of  talk 
it  was  decided  to  carry  the  old  man  to  the  mission  hospital. 

They  put  him  in  an  old  red  blanket  tied  to  a  bamboo  pole  and 
the  men  took  turns  in  carrying  the  pole  on  their  heads.  All  Vin- 
ganima’s  wives  and  sisters  and  other  relatives  filled  their  big 
conical  baskets  with  food  and  tied  the  babies  on  their  backs  and 
followed  after  and  so  after  walking  several  days  they  came  to 
the  doctor. 

Because  they  were  all  strangers  and  afraid  of  her  and  her 
ways  the  doctor  let  them  watch  while  she  took  out  the  leaves  and 
washed  the  wounds  and  put  the  old  man  to  sleep.  Then  with 
knives  and  needles  and  thread  and  bandages  she  dressed  the 
wounds  and  put  him  into  the  house  for  sick  people.  For  a  week 
it  seemed  that  he  must  surely  die  but  he  didn’t.  His  little  girl 
wife  and  all  his  other  wives  stayed  with  him  and  watched  and 
wondered  at  all  that  the  white  woman  did  and  most  of  all  that 
she  talked  their  language.  Every  day  she  told  them  about  her 
great  chief,  Jesus,  who  had  sent  her  into  their  country  to  cure 
their  wounds  and  take  away  their  fears.  How  his  spirit  helped 
her  do  it.  How  she  asked  him  always  to  help  her  heal  their  sick¬ 
nesses  and  show  them  that  God  loved  them  and  wanted  them  to 
be  his  people.  There  were  pictures  on  the  hospital  wall  of  Jesus 
healing  sick  folk,  or  holding  little  children  in  his  arms  or  sitting 
on  the  sea  shore  talking  to  fishermen  mending  their  nets  which 
perhaps  helped  to  make  Jesus  real  to  them.  And  every  day  they 
watched  the  doctor  wash  and  dress  the  wounds  with  her  own 
hands  until  they  were  quite  well  and  Vinganima  could  return  to 
his  town.  They  saw  the  children  in  the  station  schools  and  heard 
them  singing  and  thought  that  they  would  like  to  have  a  school 
in  their  town  and  so  when  the  doctor  asked  Vinganima  if  he 
would  not  let  Nsimba  remain  and  live  with  her  and  go  to  school 
and  learn  to  dress  wounds  and  care  properly  for  sick  people  he 
said,  “Ka  diambu  ko.”  (All  right.) 


NSIMBA  WATCHES  A  GAME  OF  DOMINOES 


LESSON  V. 


THE  DOCTOR’S  NEW  BOY. 


HEN  old  chief  Vinganima,  after  many  days  spent  in  the 
mission  hospital,  left  for  home  his  little  grandson  fol¬ 
lowed  as  far  as  the  brook  down  in  the  valley.  His 
mother  promised  to  come  again  when  the  moon  was  at 
the  full  and  bring  him  a  stick  wound  with  dried  eels  and 
lis  looking  glass  bought  at  the  big  market.  That  morning  she  had 
given  him  a  new  stout  string  for  the  little  carved  image  about  an 
inch  long  which  he  had  worn  day.  and  night  since  his  twin  sister 
died  when  they  were  babies.  While  living  with  the  white  people 
she  told  him  to  hide  it  under  his  loin  cloth  where  nobody  could 
see  it  but  always  to  wear  it  if  he  would  be  well. 

When  the  last  charges  and  goodbys  were  all  said  Nsimba 
turned  and  with  slow  step  and  a  sober  face  began  to  climb  the 
hill  to  begin  his  new  life  with  the  strange  white  people.  Before 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


19 


he  had  reached  the  top  he  turned  and  would  have  run  back  down 
after  his  mother  but  for  somebody  calling,  “Nsimba,  Nsimba.” 
Turning  he  saw  Joani  Malembe,  the  boy  whom  he  had  met  at 
the  market  two  dry  seasons  before. 

The  doctor  knew  that  her  new  boy  would  be  pretty  lonesome 
for  a  few  days  and  had  sent  Malembe,  who  helped  her  in  the 
medicine  house,  to  meet  the  little  chap  and  bring  him  back  and 
see  that  the  other  boys  didn’t  tease  him  for  a  few  days  at  least. 
She  had  told  Mabiengua  her  cook  to  get  some  palm  nuts  and 
peppers,  a  cup  of  rice  and  a  tin  of  red  herring  and  make  some 
good  palm  chop  for  Nsimba.  Also  to  get  him  a  new  red  blanket 
and  show  him  his  bed  in  the  boys’  house.  He  could  pay  for  the 
blanket  by  washing  up  over  at  the  medicine  house  every  day  after 
school. 

Nsimba  was  so  delighted  to  own  a  blanket  that  he  forgot  all 
about  being  homesick.  Only  two  or  three  rich  men  in  his  whole 
town  owned  blankets.  They  had  bought  them  for  many  brass 
rods  at  the  market.  Who  ever  heard  of  a  little  boy  having  a 
blanket?  Joani  told  him  to  put  his  mark  on  it  so  it  wouldn’t  get 
mixed  up  with  the  other  boys’  blankets.  He  was  to  sleep  in  the 
doctor’s  boys’  house  with  Joani  and  Mabiengua  and  Loti,  the 
garden  and  chicken  boy. 

After  supper  a  bell  rang  and  all  four  boys  went  into  the  doc¬ 
tor’s  house  for  prayers.  They  all  sat  on  the  floor  and  Mabiengua 
read  about  a  boy  who  followed  a  strange  man  who  came  from 
across  the  sea  as  he  went  from  town  to  town  making  sick  people 
well.  Crowds  followed  him  and  by  and  by  he  climbed  a  hill  and 
sat  down  to  rest.  He  was  hungry  and  tired  and  so  were  all  the 
crowd  but  nobody  had  thought  to  bring  anything  to  eat  except 
the  boy.  His  mother  had  given  him  some  bread  and  fish  for  the 
road  that  morning  so  he  gave  it  to  the  stranger  who  broke  it 
and  fed  all  the  people  with  it.  That  must  be  more  of  the  white 
man’s  magic  thought  Nsimba. 

The  doctor  explained  that  the  stranger  was  God’s  son  who 
was  always  sorry  when  he  saw  people  sick  and  tired  and  hungry 
and  that  he  always  wanted  to  heal  and  rest  and  feed  them  and  that 
he  wants  us  to  help  him  heal  and  rest  and  feed  the  people  who  are 
all  around  us.  Even  a  little  boy  can  help  if  he  will  give  Jesus  all 


20 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


he  has.  Then  she  asked  God  to  keep  them  all  safely  through  the 
night  and  to  help  them  follow  Jesus  every  day  and  give  him  all 
they  had  like  the  boy  in  the  story. 

Mabiengua  lit  the  lantern  and  after  saying,  “Mavimpi,  leka 
kiambote”  (Good  night,  sleep  well)  the  boys  went  to  their  own 
house.  All  but  Nsimba  had  lessons  to  learn.  Mabiengua  who 
was  studying  English  was  writing  out  a  translation  of  a  second 
reader  story  of  Hiawatha  and  as  Nsimba  watched  him  drawing 
pictures  on  the  margin  of  his  composition  book  just  like  the  pen 
and  ink  sketches  in  the  reader,  he  said  in  his  heart  Mabiengua 
also  is  learning  the  white  man’s  magic.  Joani  was  working  out  a 
problem  in  arithmetic  which  made  much  trouble  for  his  head,  he 
told  Nsimba.  Loti  who  had  been  in  school  but  a  few  weeks  was 
trying  to  write  figures  up  to  ten.  “ Mo  si ,  zole,  tatu,  yia,  tanu, 
scimbcinu,  nsuambuadia,  nana,  vua  kumi,”  he  repeated  over  and 
over  as  he  wrote  them.  Any  boy  can  count  tens  on  his  fingers  but 
counting  on  paper  was  different. 

Curfew  rang  at  nine  and  lights  went  out.  The  other  boys  were 
soon  asleep  but  Nsimba  lay  for  a  long  time  thinking  of  all  the 
strange  things  he  had  seen  and  heard  that  day.  He  thought  of 
his  mother  and  grandfather  sleeping  on  the  path.  He  wished 
Mabiengua  had  closed  the  window  over  his  bed.  Nobody  in  his 
town  slept  with  doors  or  windows  open.  Spirits  were  everywhere 
at  night.  He  clutched  the  little  carved  image  tightly  in  his  hand. 
The  white  woman  had  asked  Her  God  to  take  care  of  him  tonight. 
Did  God  care  for  people?  Was  God  stronger  and  better  than 
the  spirits?  What  was  God  like  he  wondered.  The  doctor  had 
said  that  the  stranger  who  healed  and  fed  the  people  was  God’s 
son.  Was  God  like  that  ?  An  owl  screeched  in  the  nearby  wood. 
Nsimba  drew  the  new  blanket  up  over  his  head  and  shivered. 
Nevertheless,  almost  before  he  knew  it  he  was  sound  asleep. 

About  half  past  five  the  next  morning  Joani  shook  him  awake 
and  told  him  to  go  quickly  to  the  spring  and  bathe  and  bring  up 
six  pails  of  water  for  the  medicine  house  before  breakfast.  He 
gave  him  a  small  piece  of  soap  and  bade  him  make  his  body  shine 
and  then  come  and  have  his  hair  cut  and  put  on  the  new  clothes 
which  the  doctor  had  given  him  the  night  before.  If  he  worked 
for  the  white  woman  he  must  be  clean,  clean,  clean. 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


21 


There  was  a  blue  denim  shirt  with  white  facings  and  a  loin 
cloth  which  Nsimba  wound  around  his  waist  and  tucked  securely 
in.  It  looked  a  little  like  a  skirt  but  that’s  the  way  boys  dress  in 
Congo  land  when  they  wear  clothes  at  all.  Nsimba  never  had 
worn  clothes  before,  just  a  bit  of  a  rag  which  he  tied  about  his 
waist.  He  felt  very  grand  in  his  new  clothes  and  wished  that  the 
boys  at  home  could  see  him  now.  But  it  was  a  very  timid  little 
boy  who  went  into  the  school  room  for  the  first  time  with  Joani 
at  nine  o’clock. 

LESSON  VI. 

SCHOOL  DAYS. 

SIMBA’S  first  day  at  school  was  full  of  surprises.  The 
teacher’s  name  was  Joshua  Wamba.  Wamba  means 
slave.  Was  he,  Nsimba,  son  of  Manimba,  son  of  Vin- 
ganima,  a  free-born  boy  to  be  taught  by  a  slave  ? 

“You  silly,”  said  Joani.  “You  know  nothing  at  all. 
Among  the  people  of  God  there  are  no  slaves.  When  Wamba 
was  a  boy  shorter  than  you  are,  some  traders  slept  one  night  in 
the  valley  below  on  their  way  to  the  coast  to  sell  rubber  and  ivory 
and  a  boy.  A  missionary  slept  that  same  night  in  the  valley.  He 
bought  the  boy  and  made  him  free  and  Wamba  stayed  with  the 
missionary  and  helped  him  learn  our  language.  There  were  no 
books,  no  writings  in  our  language  at  that  time.  The  missionaries 
first  wrote  our  language  in  their  letters.  Now  we  do  not  only 
speak  our  words  but  we  also  write  and  read  them.  Wamba 
learned  well  the  customs  of  the  white  man  and  is  a  fine  teacher. 
All  the  boys  like  him.  Hear  carefully,  Nsimba,  there  are  no 
slaves  among  the  people  of  God.” 

Outside  the  school  house  stood  a  tub  of  water  where  the  chil¬ 
dren  who  came  from  the  town  washed  their  hands  if  they  were 
dirty,  before  going  into  school.  Nsimba  was  put  in  a  class  of 
beginners  near  the  door.  He  wasn’t  used  to  sitting  on  anything 
but  the  ground.  It  seemed  queer  to  sit  on  a  bench  with  a  half 
dozen  other  boys.  The  girls  in  his  class  sat  on  another  bench 


A  READING  LESSON 


THE  DOCTOR  HOLDING  A  STORY  HOUR 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND  23 

across  the  aisle.  When  the  nine  o’clock  bell  rang  all  the  children 
stood  and  sang 

Jesus  loves  me  this  I  know 
For  the  Bible  tells  me  so. 

In  Kikongo  the  chorus  goes  something  like  this 

Yesu  utuzolele, 

Inga,  utuzolele. 

Yesu  utuzolele, 

Nkanda  watutela  wo. 

Then  they  repeated  the  twenty-third  psalm  together  and  Wamba 
told  them  that  Jesus  was  the  good  shepherd  who  had  given  his 
life  for  the  sheep  that  had  gone  astray  and  how  he  was  now  call¬ 
ing  his  little  black  lambs  who  were  wandering  afraid  in  the  dark 
over  the  Congo  hills,  calling  them  to  follow  him  home.  How  he 
carries  the  tired  sick  ones  in  his  arms  all  the  way  home.  Then 
he  asked  God,  the  father  of  Jesus,  to  give  the  children  ears  to  hear 
and  feet  to  follow  the  shepherd  and  hearts  to  obey  him. 

Wamba  gave  Nsimba  a  slate  and  pencil  and  wrote  across  the 
top  i  i  i  and  bade  him  copy  it.  Nsimba  had  never  before 
held  a  pencil  and  the  marks  he  made  didn’t  look  very  much  like  the 
copy.  He  watched  the  other  boys  and  wondered  why  they  made 
marks  and  then  rubbed  them  out  and  if  he  ought  to  rub  his  out. 
But  there  were  so  many  other  more  interesting  things  going  on  all 
around  him  that  he  soon  forgot  all  about  his  work. 

Just  outside  the  door  by  which  he  was  sitting  a  class  was  read¬ 
ing  about  a  tortoise  and  a  hare  who  ran  a  race.  There  was  a 
picture  on  the  blackboard  of  a  fox  standing  up  like  a  judge,  start¬ 
ing  them  off.  While  they  were  reading  the  doctor  came  past  and 
listened.  “Now,”  she  said,  “lets  play  tortoise  and  hare.  Di- 
atezua,  Miriam  and  Lutete  read  best  to-day.  Who  will  be  the 
tortoise?  Diatezua?  All  right.  Remember  you  must  just  crawl 
and  crawl  and  keep  on  crawling  all  the  way.  Miriam  with  her 
swift  little  legs  will  make  a  fine  hare.  She  will  go  to  sleep  under 
the  mango  tree  and  sleep  and  sleep  and  sleep  until  the  tortoise 


24 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


almost  reaches  the  goal.  Lutete  must  look  wise  and  be  Judge 
Fox.  All  ready.” 

Just  about  that  time  Madede  across  the  aisle  had  filled  her  slate 
so  she  came  over  and  tried  to  show  Nsimba  how  to  fill  his.  He 
felt  queer  to  have  a  girl  show  him  anything.  Wamba  called  their 
class  to  come  up  to  the  board  and  Madede  told  him  to  come  along. 
The  teacher  made  some  marks  on  the  board  and  when  he  asked 
what  they  were  Madede  quick  as  a  wink  said  "cat,  rat,  four,  has, 
feet.”  Nsimba  just  couldn’t  understand  how  marks  like  those 
could  be  rats  and  cats  with  four  feet.  Could  words  which  are 
made  in  the  mouth  be  made  with  chalk?  Could  girls  learn  wis¬ 
dom  as  well  as  boys?  The  morning  full  of  surprises  passed  all 
too  quickly  as  indeed  did  the  many  which  followed  and  soon 
Nsimba  was  reading  and  writing  with  the  best  of  them. 

Afternoons  he  worked  over  at  the  medicine  house,  washing 
cups  and  pitchers,  measuring  glasses,  bottles  and  trays  and  scrub¬ 
bing  tables  and  floors  and  basins.  Woman’s  work  he  called  it 
and  at  first  rather  wanted  to  rebel  but  Joani  Malembe,  the  hospital 
boy,  told  him  that  he  had  begun  as  wash-up  boy  in  the  medicine 
house  and  only  after  he  had  learned  to  keep  everything  clean  and 
in  order,  had  he  begun  to  help  the  doctor  with  washings  and 
dressings.  Now  he  was  making  cough  mixtures,  weighing  pow¬ 
ders  and  giving  the  sleeping  medicine  which  goes  into  the  nose. 
Nsimba  thought  Joani  very  wise  indeed.  Had  he  not  heard  peo¬ 
ple  who  came  for  medicine  call  him  “dokuta  Malembe”  ?  So  he 
stuck  to  his  job  like  a  man. 

Three  moons  had  come  and  gone  since  Lesa,  Nsimba’ s  mother, 
left  him  promising  to  come  soon  with  the  dried  eels  and  the 
precious  looking  glass.  She  had  had  rheumatism  so  badly  that 
she  couldn’t  walk  so  far  she  told  him  when  she  did  come.  "How 
you  have  grown.  How  well  you  look  my  son,”  she  said.  "Those 
clothes  are  very  fine.  The  image  of  your  sister  ?  You  have  worn 
it  by  day  and  by  night?” 

"Yes,  mother,  I  wear  it  always.  For  many  nights  after  you 
left  me  I  held  it  tightly  until  I  slept,  but  these  nights  I  am  for¬ 
getting  fear.  Listen,  mother.  The  white  woman  of  God  tells 
me  that  my  little  twin  sister  will  not  harm  me.  That  she  plays  in 
the  town  of  God  where  it  is  never  dark  and  children  see  no  fear. 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


25 


When  I  asked  how  she  could  find  her  way  to  the  town  of  God, 
— and  she  so  little — the  white  woman  told  me  that  Jesus,  the  son 
of  God,  carries  the  little  ones  in  his  arms  all  the  way, — and  that 
perhaps  God’s  town  isn’t  really  very  far  away.  It  just  seems 
far  because  our  eyes  can’t  see  it.” 

“It  is  a  fable  of  the  white  people,  my  son.  Our  fathers  never 
heard  of  such  a  town.  There  may  be  for  the  white  people  who 
are  not  really  people, — but  for  us  black  folk  of  the  grass  lands? 
No,  it  cannot  be,  else  we  should  have  heard.  Is  it  not  the  spirits 
of  our  dead  who  make  us  sick,  who  haunt  the  paths  and  shadow 
our  lives  always?  Trust  not  the  talk  of  the  white  woman  but 
wear  your  twin  fetish  by  day  and  by  night.” 

“But  mother,  the  white  doctor  tells  us  that  mosquitoes,  not 
spirits,  cause  us  to  burn  with  fever.  The  medicine  she  gives 
quickly  cools  the  hot  skin.  She  says  tetse  flies  bring  the  terrible 
sleeping  sickness  and  not  angry  spirits.  Truly  she  is  very  wise, 
wiser  than  we.  She  says  that  God  loves  us  and  wants  us  to  trust 
in  Jesus  instead  of  in  fetishes  and  every  night  she  asks  him  to 
guard  and  keep  us  safely  through  the  night,  to  help  us  follow 
Jesus  every  day  and  give  him  all  we  have.  I  don’t  want  to  give 
him  my  looking  glass.” 


BRINGING  WOOD  AND  WATER  TO  COOK  THE  CHRISTMAS  FEAST 


LESSON  VII. 


CHRISTMAS  ON  THE  CONGO. 

T  was  a  Saturday  afternoon  late  in  December.  All  the 
station  boys  had  washed  their  clothes  and  hung  them  on 
the  bushes  to  dry  and  were  shouting  and  splashing  and 
ducking  one  another  in  the  swimming  hole  down  under 
the  big  trees  by  the  creek.  “Lumingu  Luamputu 
(Christmas)  draws  near,”  remarked  Mabiengua  who  was  sitting 
on  the  bank  with  a  few  of  the  bigger  boys.  “We  must  go  on  the 
second  day  of  next  week  and  hunt  over  the  hills  for  the  bush  with 
shining  leaves  and  little  red  berries  which  our  white  people  want 
at  Christmas  time.  It  is  their  custom  to  hang  it  in  the  windows 
and  put  it  on  their  dinner  tables.  The  school  boys  must  go  to 
the  forest  and  bring  palm  branches,  many,  many  to  decorate  the 
church.  As  for  me  Mabiengua,  I  shall  have  much  cleaning  and 
cooking  to  do  in  nengua  dokuta’s  house.” 

“Christmas?  What  is  Christmas?”  asked  Nsimba  who  had 
been  on  the  mission  station  but  a  few  months. 

“Christmas  ?  Have  you  not  heard  ?”  exclaimed  Diatezua. 
“Christmas  is  the  very  best  time  in  all  the  year.  The  white  peo¬ 
ple  give  gifts.  We  boys  all  have  new  clothes  and  the  girls  new 
dresses  and  we  play  for  a  whole  week  with  no  lessons  to  make 
trouble  for  our  heads  and  there’s  feasting  and  fun.  Last  year 
Loti  and  I  awoke  at  midnight  at  the  singing  of  the  students. 
They  went  at  midnight  to  all  the  houses  of  the  white  people  and 
sang  Christmas  carols.  Christmas  is  a  day  for  singing  and  glad¬ 
ness.  You  shall  see,  Nsimba.” 

“And  for  gifts,”  added  Mabiengua.  “Last  year  some  children 
in  America  sent  knives  to  all  us  boys.  Mine  is  a  beauty.  It  has 
four  blades.  There  were  mouth  organs  for  the  little  boys  and 
dolls  and  beads  for  the  girls.  Knives  are  better  than  dolls.  Neli 
Nlandu  who  lives  across  the  river  took  her  doll  to  her  town  when 
she  went  to  rest  in  the  dry  season.  While  she  was  digging  pea¬ 
nuts  in  the  garden  with  her  mother  some  thief  stole  her  doll. 


28 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


Many  moons  afterwards  an  up-country  carrier  slept  in  her 
father’s  house,  and  told  them  that  he  had  seen  Neli’s  doll.  Yes, 
it  had  a  red  dress.  It  was  hanging  under  the  roof  of  a  chief’s 
house,  guarding  it  while  he  was  away  on  a  far  journey.  The 
people  of  the  town  had  said  that  if  any  one  touched  the  powerful 
fetish  which  had  come  from  the  white  man’s  country  he  would 
surely  dry  up  and  wither  away.  Nengua  dokuta  told  Neli  when 
she  cried  for  her  ‘little  white  child’  that  perhaps  some  little  girl 
in  America  would  send  her  another  ‘white  child’  next  Christ¬ 
mas.” 

“But  you  boys  haven’t  answered  Nsimba’s  question”,  said 
Joani.  “Christmas  is  the  birthday  of  Jesus,  the  son  of  God, 
Nsimba.  We,  Bafiote,  have  only  one  birthday,  the  day  on  which 
we  are  born.  It  is  the  white  man’s  custom  to  have  many  birth¬ 
days.  Each  year  he  is  glad  that  he  was  born  and  receives  gifts 
on  the  day  of  the  moon  on  which  he  was  born.  He  has  names  for 
all  the  moons.  This  moon  they  call  December  and  on  its  twenty- 
fifth  day  they  are  glad  when  they  remember  the  birth  of  Jesus. 
They  sing  because  the  angels  from  Heaven  sang  the  night  Jesus 
was  born.  Out  of  their  gladness  of  heart  they  give  gifts  in  his 
name.  They  have  brought  us  this  Christmas  gladness  together 
with  the  good  news.  Now  we  are  of  God’s  tribe  and  keep  its 
customs.” 

“Nsimba  is  not  yet  a  person  of  God”,  remarked  Mabiengua. 
“Only  now  in  the  swimming  hole  I  saw  that  he  still  wears  the 
twin  fetish.” 

“He  is  learning  the  ways  of  the  new  tribe”,  replied  Joani. 
“Remember  he  has  been  here  but  a  little  while  and  that  in  all  his 
country  it  was  forbidden  to  speak  the  name  of  Jesus  until  his 
grandfather  chief  Vinganima’s  heart  grew  soft  during  the  long 
weeks  he  lay  in  the  hospital.”  Then  turning  to  Nsimba  he  said, 
“You  should  put  your  trust  in  Jesus,  Nsimba.  Then  you  will 
no  longer  see  fear  in  the  land  of  your  heart  and  will  throw  away 
that  carved  image.  Have  you  not  yet  understood  that  Jesus  so 
loved  you  that  he  died  for  your  sins  ?  All  our  lies  and  thefts  and 
quarrelings  and  our  disobedience  God  forgives  and  forgets  and 
gives  us  white  hearts  when  we  love  and  follow  Jesus.  Listen. 
When  I  was  smaller  than  you  I  stole  five  eggs  from  my  grand- 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


29 


mother.  At  that  time  I  had  not  heard  of  Jesus.  "But  when  I 
became  a  person  of  God  I  saw  great  shame  and  could  not  rest 
until  I  had  given  back  the  eggs.  Two  weeks  I  worked  for  old 
Madede  clearing  her  garden.  She  paid  me  eight  eggs.  I  gave 
them  to  grandmother  and  told  her  of  the  theft  and  quietness  came 
into  my  heart.” 

Just  then  the  five  o’clock  bell  rang  and  the  boys  all  scampered 
off  each  to  his  evening  work,  Mabiengua  to  the  cook  house,  Loti 
to  feed  the  chickens  and  Joani  and  Nsimba  to  the  medicine  house. 
When  they  met  at  prayers  that  night  the  doctor  noticed  that 
Nsimba  listened  carefully  as  she  read  and  talked  about  the  Christ¬ 
mas  story.  She  prayed  that  the  love  of  God  who  gave  us  Jesus 
might  drive  all  fear  out  of  the  boys’  hearts  and  make  them  real 
Christians. 

Christmas  morning  the  doctor’s  boys  came  at  breakfast  time  with 
their  gifts.  Mabiengua  brought  some  fine  leopards’  claws,  Joani 
a  witch  doctor’s  gong  which  she  had  wanted  for  a  long  time.  Loti 
brought  a  beautiful  basket  his  mother  had  woven  and  Nsimba 
shyly  offered  some  zinsafu  (sour  plums)  which  the  boys  told  him 
his  mistress  liked. 

For  Mabiengua  who  was  beginning  to  read  English  the  doctor 
had  a  copy  of  Robinson  Cruso  with  colored  pictures.  There  was 
a  leather  belt  for  Loti,  an  Ingersoll  dollar  watch  for  Joani  with 
which  he  could  count  heart  beats  over  at  the  hospital  and  for 
Nsimba  the  very  thing  he  wanted  most  of  all,  a  cap.  There  was 
candy  to  divide  among  themselves  and  new  clothes  all  around. 

The  morning  after  Christmas  everybody  was  astir  as  soon  as  it 
was  light.  One  of  the  missionaries  had  gone  with  a  gun  to  hunt. 
The  older  boys  went  to  bring  back  the  meat.  The  children  were 
busy  bringing  wood  and  water  to  cook  the  feast.  Girls  were  shell¬ 
ing  peanuts  and  picking  open  squash  seeds  and  grinding  them 
into  a  paste  together  with  spicy  leaves  and  peppers.  Boys  brought 
great  bunches  of  bananas  and  baskets  of  mangos  from  the  gar¬ 
dens.  In  the  doctor’s  cook  house  Joani  was  popping  corn  which 
Mabiengua  made  into  sugared  balls  while  Nsimba  washed  the 
dishes.  Before  noon  the  hunters  returned  with  plenty  of  meat 
and  the  feast  was  assured. 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


31 


When  everything  was  ready  the  bell  rang  for  the  sports.  There 
were  peanut  and  sack  races,  a  mile  race  and  lots  of  funny  stunts. 
The  happy  winners  received  little  prizes  and  then  came  the  feast. 
Everybody  ate  and  ate  and  ate  till  he  positively  couldn’t  eat  any 
more. 

In  the  evening  a  sheet  was  strung  between  two  trees  and  the  day 
ended  with  a  picture  show.  Congo  children  have  not  seen  moving 
pictures  yet  but  they  very  much  like  a  lantern  show.  Nsimba 
didn’t  quite  know  what  to  think.  He  was  more  than  half  afraid 
but  didn’t  like  to  show  it  wedged  in  as  he  was  between  the  other 
boys.  First  there  was  a  picture  on  the  cloth  and  then  there 
wasn’t!  What  made  them  come  and  go?  Spirits?  It  must  be 
more  of  the  white  man’s  magic  like  the  curious  corn  that  danced 
and  popped. 


LESSON  VIII. 

VACATION  DAYS. 

WO  more  days  and  school  would  be  out.  The  children 
could  think  of  nothing  but  the  good  times  which  the 
long  vacation  would  bring.  The  boys  were  going  hunt¬ 
ing  and  fishing  and  canoeing.  What  steaming  pots  of 
savory  food  their  mothers  would  cook  for  them  !  And 
the  long  moonlight  nights  when  they  could  sit  up  with  the  men 
all  night  if  they  chose !  There  would  be  no  nine  o’clock  curfew 
in  the  towns.  The  girls  would  visit  and  go  with  the  women  to 
their  gardens.  Yes,  they  would  work  in  the  gardens.  Girls  must 
always  work.  But  it  would  be  with  their  hands,  not  with  their 
heads. 

That  night  after  prayers  the  doctor  told  her  boys  that  next 
year  she  was  going  to  her  town  far  across  the  sea  when  school 
closed.  This  year  she  wanted  to  visit  as  many  of  their  towns  as 
possible  during  the  vacation.  So  if  Mabiengua  would  tie  up  the 
canvas  bed  and  bedding  in  the  ground  sheet  and  pack  the  “chop 
box”  and  road  things  in  the  morning,  they  would  all  go  together, 


32 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


first  to  Nsimba’s  town.  Joani  would  pack  the  medicines  and 
knives  and  bandages.  He  must  go  to  help  with  the  sick  people 
they  would  find  in  the  towns.  Loti  must  stay  behind  to  care  for 
the  chickens  and  garden.  Next  time  Nsimba  would  stay  and 
Loti  could  go. 

The  third  morning  they  started  off  about  six  o’clock  with  bag 
and  baggage,  laughing  and  joking  as  they  went  along  the  trail 
Indian  fashion.  It  was  good  to  leave  the  medicine  house  and 
school  and  the  station  behind.  There  were  many  streams  to  cross. 
Over  some  the  doctor  was  carried  in  her  hammock.  Others  she 
crossed  on  fallen  trees.  One  quite  wide  river  was  crossed  on 
a  swinging  bridge  made  of  stout  vines  swung  from  trees  on  either 
side  of  the  river.  You  had  to  climb  up  into  the  tree  to  get  on  to 
the  bridge. 

The  third  night  out  they  slept  in  Nsimba’s  town.  Chief  Vin- 
ganima  was  very  proud  to  have  the  white  woman  doctor  who  had 
saved  his  life  two  years  before  sleep  in  his  town.  He  was  proud 
too  of  Nsimba  who  had  grown  to  be  a  fine  strong  boy  of  fourteen 
or  fifteen.  The  chief  offered  the  doctor  the  cleanest  house  in 
town  and  gave  her  a  fowl  for  supper.  His  women  brought  her 
wood  and  water  and  food  for  the  boys  and  carriers.  While  Joani 
set  up  the  bed  and  Mabiengua  was  busy  getting  supper  she  asked 
if  there  were  any  sick  people  in  the  town  and  found  quite  a  few. 
She  promised  that  they  should  all  have  medicine  in  the  morning. 
The  little  folding  table  with  its  white  cloth  was  set  out  of  doors 
and  the  little  children  stood  at  a  distance  shyly  watching  the  white 
woman  eat. 

After  supper  the  doctor  suggested  that  instead  of  the  usual 
prayers  they  have  a  story  hour  and  that  each  of  the  boys  should 
tell  a  Bible  story  of  his  own  choosing.  While  they  sang  two  or 
three  songs  the  children  and  most  of  the  grown  people  too,  came 
and  sat  on  the  ground  all  about  them.  More  than  twenty  dogs 
came  too  and  brought  their  fleas  with  them. 

Joani  started  off  with  the  story  of  the  prodigal  son  and  Ma¬ 
biengua  followed  with  the  good  Samaritan.  The  doctor  explained 
that  God  was  like  the  father  and  the  Samaritan  in  the  stories.  He 
was  always  wanting  his  sinning  children  to  come  home ;  always 
helping  them  when  they  fell  into  trouble.  He  is  powerful  enough 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


33 


to  save  us.  Fetish  is  not.  Nsimba  was  rather  bashful  just  at 
first  about  talking  before  his  own  chiefs  but  finally  he  screwed 
his  courage  up  and  began. 

“You  all  know  me,  Nsimba  the  child  of  Manimba.  I  am  only 
a  child.  I  haven’t  much  to  tell.  A  short  story  I  know  about  a 
great  chief  who  made  for  himself  a  strong  fetish  and  told  all  the 
people  to  fall  on  their  faces  before  it  at  the  sound  of  the  war 
drums.  All  the  people  were  afraid  and  fell  down  when  the  drums 
spoke.  In  the  great  chief’s  town  were  three  slave  boys  whom  he 
had  taken  in  a  raid.  These  boys  knew  no  fear.  They  had  no 
fetish.  They  were  people  of  God.  They  would  not  fall  down 
before  the  strong  fetish  which  the  chief  made.  He  was  very 
angry  and  said  they  should  be  burned  with  fire.  Could  God 
save  them  out  of  his  hands?  The  boys  said  God  could.  They 
didn’t  know  whether  he  would  but  they  would  not  bow  to  the 
fetish.  So  the  chief  threw  them  in  the  fire  but  God  was  stronger 
than  the  flames  and  kept  them  untouched  in  the  fire.  When  I 
first  heard  this  strange  story  from  the  book  of  God  I  said  in  my 
heart  their  God  is  a  real  God.” 

“These  two  years  while  I  have  lived  with  the  white  people  at 
the  mission  I  have  kept  my  mother’s  command  and  worn  always 
the  twin’s  fetish.  At  first  I  saw  great  fear  and  wanted  to  run 
away  to  my  mother’s  house.  But  with  many  hearings  I  heard 
the  story  of  Jesus  and  hid  it  in  my  heart  and  my  fears  melted 
away.  I  will  follow  Jesus  and  be  one  of  the  people  of  God.  I 
will  wear  no  fetish.”  Going  over  to  the  fire  beside  his  mother’s 
house  he  dropped  the  little  carved  thing  into  the  glowing  coals. 
For  a  minute  there  was  a  dead  silence.  Then  everybody  began 
to  talk  at  once.  Most  of  the  people  thought  that  something 
dreadful  would  probably  happen  to  the  boy. 

After  staying  a  few  days  in  the  town  the  doctor  arranged  to 
go  in  a  big  dugout  canoe  across  the  Congo  river  and  visit  some 
of  the  towns  on  the  other  side.  The  current  was  so  swift  that 
the  paddlers  had  to  go  a  long  way  down  stream  to  get  across. 
Out  in  the  middle  of  the  river  seven  hippopotami  came  up  to  see 
what  was  going  by.  One  mother  hippo  had  an  ugly  little  baby 
hippo  on  her  back.  The  father  hippo  looked  awfully  cross  and 


34 


WITH  JESUS  IN  CONGO  LAND 


bawled  after  the  canoe  a  long  time.  The  paddlers  didn’t  answer 
back  but  paddled  for  all  they  were  worth. 

They  stopped  for  lunch  on  a  sandy  bit  of  bank  where  the  hippos 
had  been  ashore  for  breakfast.  In  the  big  trees  overhead  seven 
or  eight  monkeys  were  swinging  from  tree  to  tree  making  re¬ 
marks  about  the  picnic  party  and  some  green  parrots  were  adding 
their  bit.  You  see  in  Congo  land  it’s  the  wild  animals  and  not 
the  people  who  go  to  the  circus. 

Just  as  they  were  getting  into  the  canoe  after  lunch  they  saw 
another  canoe  signalling  them.  When  it  came  alongside  the 
men  said  they  had  come  for  the  doctor.  Nsimba  who  had  stayed 
behind  for  a  few  days  with  his  mother  had  gone  bathing  in  the 
river  and  had  almost  been  taken  by  a  man-eating  crocodile.  The 
crocodile  had  taken  a  big  bite  out  of  his  leg.  Back  up  stream 
they  paddled  as  fast  as  they  could  go  and  after  the  doctor  had 
dressed  the  ugly  wound  she  said  they  must  take  Nsimba  at  once  to 
the  hospital  where  she  could  take  proper  care  of  him.  He  was 
well  and  strong  and  the  wound  healed  nicely  but  he  had  had  a 
very  narrow  escape.  His  mother  begged  him  to  wear  another 
twin  fetish  but  he  wouldn’t  have  it.  He  told  her  that  he  .was 
now  one  of  the  people  of  God  and  couldn’t  wear  a  fetish. 

Soon  after  he  came  out  of  the  hospital  Nsimba  was  baptized 
one  Sunday  morning  down  in  the  pool  under  the  palm  trees  to¬ 
gether  with  about  twenty  other  boys  and  girls.  His  mother 
and  grandfather  knew  from  his  happy  face  that  he  saw  no  fear 
and  they  wondered  and  talked  about  it  all  the  way  home.  That 
night  after  prayers  Nsimba  said,  “Since  I  am  now  counted  as  one 
of  the  people  of  God  and  am  learning  their  customs  I  will  choose 
a  new  name  for  myself  from  among  the  names  in  God’s  book. 
I  will  be  called  Daniele.  Daniele  Nsimba.” 


THE  CROSS  IN  CONGO  LAND 

.--"■•  =  1917-1918  . 

SUNDAY  SCHOOL  STUDIES  PREPARED  JOINTLY  by  the 
AMERICAN  BAPTIST  FOREIGN  MISSION  SOCIETY  and  the 
WOMAN’S  AMERICAN  BAPTIST  FOREIGN  MISSION  SOCIETY 

For  Charts,  Lessons  for  Other  Grades,  Easter  Concert 
Programs,  Collection  Envelopes,  and  other  sup¬ 
plies,  apply  to  any  of  the  following: 

Department  of  Missionary  Education, 

23  East  2Gth  Street,  New  York  City 

Literature  Department,  A.  B.  F.  M.  S., 

Box  41,  Boston,  Mass. 

Publication  Department,  W.  A.  B.  F.  M.  S., 

450  East  30th  Street,  Chicago,  Ill. 

Rev.  A.  W.  Rider,  D.D., 

313  West  3d  Street,  Los  Angeles,  Cal. 

Rev.  A.  M.  Petty,  D.D., 

403  Tilford  Building,  Portland,  Oregon 


One  complete  set  of  supplies  furnished  free  to  every 

Sunday  School 


